


sunrise

by floralathena



Series: Happy Gay Shadowhunters [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralathena/pseuds/floralathena
Summary: “I can hear you thinking from over here,” Clary calls, looking up from her sketchbook with a cheeky grin, “You want to tell me what’s on that beautiful mind of yours?”“You,” Izzy says, lying on her side, still too deep in the post-sleep haze of early morning to come up with a witty response.





	sunrise

Clary always doodles. When she’s excited, when she’s nervous, when she’s on her third cup of coffee in as many hours. Sometimes she draws what she sees, or something in her imagination, or, on one memorable occasion, her American Literature teacher as a swimsuit model. She constantly has smudges on her hands, from ink and paint and graphite and oil pastels in more colors than Izzy even thought existed. Colors are Clary’s favorite thing about art, besides the emotion behind it and the glamorous life of a not-quite-starving art student. She loves to find the exact shades of white, brown, beige, and pink to mix and match Izzy’s skin or the perfect oil pastel to highlight her hair, and, when working only with a regular pencil, she loves to spend hours shading everything just so, bringing shades of grey to life. Clary is currently bathed in color, pink and orange light making her hair shine and her pale skin glow as though gilded. She sits on the windowsill, leaning against the large window frame and gazing out towards the city. Her sketchbook rests on her legs and a yellow bucket of colored pencils rests between her bare feet. In another world, one that was harsher and more taxing on the soul, she might look like a raging wildfire, but all Izzy can see is a hearth, a home, a warm fire’s glow reflected in her girlfriend. Clary bites her lip as she uses a fingertip to smudge something on the page, and Isabelle’s breath catches in her throat. _How in the world has she gotten so lucky?_

“I can hear you thinking from over here,” Clary calls, looking up from her sketchbook with a cheeky grin, “You want to tell me what’s on that beautiful mind of yours?”

“You,” Izzy says, lying on her side, still too deep in the post-sleep haze of early morning to come up with a witty response.

Clary’s grin grows to a beaming smile, and she blows a kiss across the room.

“What’re you-,” Izzy pauses to yawn, “-working on?”

“An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“That’s magicians.”

“Making something beautiful appear from thin air- is there that much of a difference?”

Izzy bursts out laughing.

Clary pouts. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Baby, that was so pretentious.”

Clary wings a pencil at her and misses, striking her own pillow.

Izzy sits up from her blanket cocoon and stretches. It’s then Clary’s turn to hold her breath, entranced by glowing golden skin and a sparkling smile. She’s grown more or less accustomed to experiencing Isabelle’s beauty day after day, but in moments like these, Clary feels like she’s seeing her for the first time.

“Are we still meeting everyone for brunch today?”

“Well, I’ve got a bunch of annoyed whiney texts from your brothers, so I think it’s safe to say Magnus still expects us at ten-thirty.”

Isabelle yawns again and pushes a large knot of dark hair out of her face, wrinkling her nose.

“You are so adorable,” Clary says, and abruptly realizes that at some point, she put down her sketchbook.

Izzy tilts her head and her lips quirk into a bemused smile.

“What did you say?” Izzy asks, teasing but with a genuinely interested tone.

“I said you’re adorable, you jerk!” Clary hides her face in her hands, unable to stand the full force of Izzy’s inquisitive gaze.

A few seconds pass, and Clary feels warm hands on hers. Izzy gently pries her girlfriend’s hands away from her red face and leans in for a kiss.

“Gross, brush your teeth first!” Clary says, but leans in to give Isabelle a sweet kiss anyways.

“You know, Clary Fray, I have been given many names in my day, but you just gave me three new ones,” Isabelle says, criss-crossing her legs to sit on the floor by the low windowsill.

Clary’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What, nobody’s ever told you how cute you are?”

Izzy shakes her head. “I get a lot of _hot_ and _sexy_ and _intimidating_ , but never _adorable_ or _jerk_ or even _gross_.”

Clary frowns. “Alright, sure, you’re unfairly gorgeous, but you’re also kind of a little shit sometimes. That’s why I love you.” She says it plainly, like it’s an indisputable truth that Clary Fray loves Isabelle Lightwood and Izzy should already know why.

Izzy gives Clary a long look, and slowly reaches out to brush a lock of almost violently red hair behind her ear. She leaves her hand there and cups Clary’s cheek, stroking softly with her thumb. Clary gazes back adoringly and brings her own hand up to take Isabelle’s. She brings their joined hands to her lips and presses a kiss to Izzy’s skin.

Izzy sits up on her knees to softly kiss Clary, once, twice, and press their foreheads together. They sit together quietly and Isabelle breathes _I love you_ into the cool morning air, her eyes tightly shut. She opens them to find Clary gazing intently into her eyes, and this time Clary leans in for something more substantial. Their lips collide-

And Clary slips off of her perch, falling onto Izzy and leaving them both sprawled on the cold, hard floor.

They dissolve into giggles, which turn to full-bodied laughs and clutching stomachs and catching breaths. Clary rolls over so that she’s lying on top of Izzy, the lines of their bodies nearly perfectly matched.

“Why, hello there,” Izzy says with an exaggerated breathy tone and an impressively sleazy wink.

Clary kisses her properly, deeply, her bottom lip slotting between Izzy’s. Izzy begins to breathe a little harder as tongues enter the fray, and she can’t recall ever feeling so light and loved. Clary pulls back and Izzy chases her, lifting her head off the ground as far as she can with another person laying fully on top of her. Izzy glares at Clary, who winks back.

Clary wiggles her way down Izzy’s body, just long enough for her to get excited, and abruptly stops with her head over Izzy’s chest. She proceeds to situate her head directly between Isabelle’s breasts, clinging to Izzy’s black sleep shirt that Clary’s certain she stole from her brother.

“And just what do you think you’re doing down there?”

“Napping,” Clary replies, burrowing into Izzy’s chest.

“You are evil! And it’s, like, seven in the morning!”

“I got up early for the sunrise,” Clary mumbles, following her statement with a very convincing yawn.

Isabelle rolls her eyes and opens her mouth for a moment, and then closes it. She rests her head back on the ground and closes her eyes.

She cards her hand through Clary’s hair lazily as their breathing slows. Clary takes Izzy’s unoccupied hand with her own, and plays with her fingers for a while. Her fingers slowly stall as her grip on Isabelle’s shirt relaxes. Izzy’s stroking ceases soon after, and they’re drifting.

They wake up hungry just before noon to somebody banging on the door and two incessantly ringing cell phones, and neither girl has any regrets.


End file.
